


through

by androgynousmikewheeler



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Reid's gentle affection vs Morgan's emotional repression: FIGHT!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26723647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgynousmikewheeler/pseuds/androgynousmikewheeler
Summary: When a victim the BAU helps reminds him far too much of himself, Morgan doesn't know how to make it through on his own.
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Comments: 17
Kudos: 95





	through

Morgan stares resolutely at the wall, fists clenching and unclenching, projecting the image of the boy they'd saved, blood on his face and fear in his eyes. Nothing in those eyes said, "saved." 

His cheap hotel bed shifts as Reid crawls across it to sit cross-legged behind him. He says nothing, just rests his hands on Morgan's shoulders. 

Morgan reaches up and squeezes one of Reid's hands, lacking the solidity he usually conveys through touch, but Reid understands. His fingers knead gently into the tense muscles of Morgan's neck, simultaneously comforting and uncomfortable. 

After a long silence, Reid whispers, "He's gonna be alright, Morgan."

Morgan shakes his head. "No. No, he's not. This will shape who he is until the day he dies and _he doesn't get any goddamn say!_ Does that sound fucking 'alright' to _you_ , pretty boy?" His anger bursts and he springs from the bed, banging his forearm against the wall as he paces the tiny room.

Reid watches him, wrinkles folding into his forehead. "I'm sorry. You're right."

He turns, more than a little surprised to find Reid ceding a point. "Yeah. Of course, I am."

"This is going to change him irreversibly. You're correct. And maybe he won't be alright, because it isn't all right. Nothing ever really is. There's always something broken, something hurt, something wrong. Right?"

His pacing slows as he waits for Reid to arrive at some sort of point. Reid scrambles off the bed to look him in the eye.

"But he is going to make it through. Life finds a way."

"Are you quoting Jeff Goldblum at me?"

Reid cracks the slightest smile. "What if I am?"

He rolls his eyes. "You're insufferable."

"And yet you suffer me."

He sighs, lets out the air held in his ribs. "It's usually worth it."

"Can I hold your hand?"

He considers. "I don't think I'm done pacing."

Reid shrugs. "That's okay." He entwines their fingers, particular as always to have his index finger in front, and pulls Morgan back into his circle.

Their cycle is far too short and rather awkward, Reid pushing up next to him to get around the dresser and then nearly tripping over his own bag. But the bizarre kid trots along beside him nevertheless, bearing his questioning stares and quick turns, and without him realizing, the frantic energy slows to a walk, and his brain feels like a brain again, rather than television static and burnt toast.

He collapses onto the bed, face first, sinking into the truly pathetic excuses for pillows. Reid sits beside him, rubbing soft circles across his back.

Eventually, he mutters, "You really think the kid's gonna make it?"

"I'd argue it in court."

He rolls onto his side to raise a doubtful eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah. _You_ made it. And I'm pretty sure all of us caught the similarities. He's a lot like you."

He clears his throat, blinks. "That kid is fucked."

_"Derek!"_

He gestures at the rumpled sheets and the clothes he's been wearing for nearly forty-eight hours. "I am not exactly the ideal model."

Several emotions flash through Reid's eyes, too quick to discern, before he says, "Well, doctor says you're doing pretty well. Maybe you should listen."

"Do _not_ be talking about yourself."

"I'm talking about myself."

"Of course, you are." He pulls at Reid's shoulder until Reid lies down beside him, half smiling.

" _Are_ you doing pretty well?" His voice is as gentle as his eyes, and equally perceptive. Morgan fights the instinct to hide away from them, from him.

He takes a deep breath. "I'm making it through."

Reid grabs both his hands this time, holding them tightly. "I'm proud of you."

Morgan looks away, laughs. "Okay, don't get gooey on me."

"I'm getting gooey on you. You're going to have to accept it. Now, look at me."

Morgan rolls his eyes, trying to roll onto his back, but Reid holds his hands firm.

"Derek, you cannot beat me in the realm of peskiness. Look at me."

Morgan groans and glares at him. A hand reaches up, holding Morgan's jaw, keeping eye contact. 

"I am proud of you," he whispers, slow and clearly enunciated, and Morgan is suddenly very aware of how close Reid's face is, his cheekbones and lips and big, brown eyes. 

He breathes, clenches his eyes shut, and opens them once more, trying his best not to shy away from those eyes, those words. "Thank you," he whispers back.

Reid smiles. "Now, get some sleep. We're flying home in seven hours and eighteen minutes." He stands and heads to the bathroom, grabbing his pajamas from their pile on the dresser.

"Thanks, doc," Morgan calls after him. As the shower turns on, he whispers, "I love you."

He's asleep by the time the water stops.


End file.
